Addendum: Birds of St. James's and Hyde Parks

As an update, I did see the pelicans of St. James's Park today:

Pelicans of St. James's Park

And on my 10-minute walk through the park (this time on the south side of the lake), I added the following birds to my list:

Great cormorant

Red-breasted goose

Ross's goose (not to be confused with a snow goose)

Hawaiian goose

Barnacle goose

Common starling

This brings my bird list for St. James's Park to a whopping 24 species, and it proves my point that the park is a good way to see lots of different birds with minimal effort.

Also of interest are some new sightings today in Hyde Park:

This Grey heron (juvenile) let me get really close.

He was having a slight identity crisis though:

a flock of Canada and Greylag geese...

...with our Grey heron

This Great crested grebe was hard to photograph, since

he kept diving under the water for long periods of time

Tufted ducks - the female is a pale base to bill variant

Egyptian geese are common in London, but it's

less common to see a whole family like this one

This Graylag goose has a black-tipped beak

(perhaps a clue of a domestic ancestry?)

A Common Swift soars like a kite,

making sharp dips and circles in the sky

This little blackbird sang me a nice song

(more on blackbird songs later)

Birds of London: St. James's Park

I arrived in London last week for a 3-week business trip. I knew I would have some extra time for sightseeing, and I should have guessed that I would end up spending a lot of that time birdwatching.

My birdwatching jaunts around London are so fruitful that I thought I would do a series of posts on London birding. My first few posts will focus on some nice birding spots I have found in the greater London area so far.

St. James's Park

Thanks to the thirst of kings (chiefly Henry VIII) for land to serve as hunting grounds, nearly 40% of greater London is now green space, making it the greenest city of its size in the world. Casual walks through Hyde Park, Regents Park, Greenwich Park, or Richmond Park (of these, I have only explored Hyde Park) will no doubt introduce you to some delightful bird species, from black-billed magpies to carrion crows, and from wood pigeons to mallard ducks. But if you want to see a wide range of species in just a small area of parkland, I would suggest taking a stroll through St. James's Park, near Buckingham Palace. For whatever reason, St. James's has a staggering diversity of wetland species for a park of its size.

Waterfowl of St. James's Park - part I

(click on image to enlarge)

Waterfowl of St. James's Park - part II

Skirt the north side of the lake in St. James's Park to see informational plaques describing 47 species found in the environs. Catch glimpses of many of these species near the grassy shore, where they no doubt await food from tourists, who are not prohibited from feeding them. The official guide to birds in the Royal Parks (http://www.royalparks.org.uk/__documents/main/docs/rpbirdsinfoweb.pdf) gives a complete list of feeding DOs and DON'Ts. (I for one don't support feeding the birds, though I do rather admire the Italian people for selling birdseed with birth control in Venice's Piazza San Marco. Anyone's who's been there will know why.)

Birds photographed in greater London in the course of 2 days

(over 20 species total). Of these, a lot were spotted in St. James's Park.

In a 15-minute walk through the Park, I saw 13 different species of waterfowl, plus 4 woodland/grassland species:

1. Hooded merganser (m.)
2. Mallard (m)
3. Mallard (f)
4. Egyptian goose
5. Common pochard (m)
6. Tufted duck (f)
7. Tufted duck (m)
8. Eurasian coot
9. Eurasian coot (juv)
10. Common moorhen
11. Common shelduck (m)
12. Eurasian wigeon (m)
13. Common pochard (f)
14. Red crested pochard (m)
17. Bar-headed goose
18. Mute swan
19. Mute swan (juv)
20. Greylag goose
21. Wood pigeon
22. Rock dove (common pigeon)
26. Blackbird
27. Blackbird (juv)
34. Carrion crow
(I will write about the other pictured birds in later posts.)

While I was surprised to see some of the non-native species, such as Egyptian geese, the bird distribution maps in my field guide tell me these species can be found in the area year-round. There were a few surprising sightings, however...

One surprise was the Hooded merganser (1), a North American species rarely sighted in Europe. Wikipedia tells me that most of the Hooded mergansers in the UK are presumed to have escaped from captivity, but I couldn't help but wonder whether this one might be one of the genuine vagrants. The possibility excites this bird nerd!

Another exciting sighting was the Eurasian wigeon (12), which (more reputable sources, including my field guide, tell me) is quite common in Britain in the winter months but only rarely remains this far south through the summer breeding months. Some, but not all, distribution maps show a few isolated islands of year-round residency in the south of England, and my field guide tells me that most of the birds that summer here do not breed. I'm dying to find out if this one will breed.... but either way, it's still quite rewarding to encounter a new species.

Finally, if you do go through St. James's park, don't miss the 6 resident pelicans. Pelicans were originally brought to the Park in the 17th century as an ambassadorial gift from Russia. In 2013, three additional pelicans were gifted from the City of Prague. I haven't seen the pelicans yet! But I hear they get daily public feedings of fish from 2:30-3:00.

The convergence

Two of my Sydney stories converged today.

Story 1:
There's a natural area near us called Fred Hollows Reserve. Matt and I found it one day while trying to get from one side of town to another. It's a thin strip of woodland running along a gully between Clovelly and Allison Roads, and the local Council has put in a series of tall boardwalks to help you get you across it. It was created as a reserve in 1993 and named in honor of Fred Hollows, a world-renowned ophthalmologist who died the same year. The first time we walked through the Reserve the sun was setting, and by the time we got to the other side it was pitch-black dark.

Fred Hollows Reserve is a strip of rainforest 

connecting Clovelly and Allison Roads.

(Base layer: Google Maps)

We have used the Reserve since then as a "shortcut" between the businesses on Frenchman's Road and those on Belmore Road (shown in red circles) - though it's more of an excuse to walk through nature than an actual time-saver.

Story 2:
There is a bird that often wakes me up in the morning. One morning I managed to pull on my clothes and run outside before it flew away. I saw it hop from branch to branch in a tall eucalyptus tree, but it was too small for me to identify without binoculars. I suspected then that it was a grey butcherbird, but when I scoured the internet none of the grey butcherbird recordings sounded like my bird. After a straight week of this same routine, I felt defeated.

In the past few months this little bird has continued to plague me, piping up in the morning only to disappear when I go outside. It taunts me from the eucalyptus trees by my office, singing out only on days when I have an early meeting to get to and can't afford to stop. The trouble is, these smallish grey birds like tall trees and cloudy days. Even when I do happen to be standing next to one, it is always silhouetted against the overcast sky, and I never have my binoculars with me to make a positive ID.

The convergence
Yesterday while walking from the hardware store on Frenchman's Road to the grocery store on Belmore Road, I felt the urge to take the "shortcut" through Fred Hollows Reserve. A blanket of clouds had just rolled in on what had been a beautiful sunny day. I was walking on the high boardwalks near the treetops behind a little girl and her frolicking puppy, who stirred up the birds as they went. Luckily, they grabbed the attention of one bird who began to sing excitedly above my head. The little girl vanished down the path, leaving me with a private concert. I immediately recognized the song as my familiar morning bird, but this time, on the high boardwalk near the tree-tops, I was able to identify the singer: a grey butcherbird.

I reached for my phone to make a recording and was pleased to capture a song that was even more varied than usual. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. If you listen closely you can even hear this one mimicking other Aussie birds (namely currawongs)...

A grey butcherbird singing

in Fred Hollows Reserve

Birds on the Prom

If you ever visit Melbourne and have an extra weekend to kill, it's worth taking a trip out to Wilson's Promontory, a 90 km² area of pristine bushland, rainforest, mountains, and beaches. One of the remarkable things about Australia is that you don't have to go very far to find gorgeous and completely isolated beaches like this one:

Oberon Bay, Wilson's Promontory (VIC)

(And by the way, the picture above was one I took. It really looks just like this). But before you get any ideas, you might want to steer clear of the water. We also saw quite a few Portuguese man-of-war babies washed up on shore.

Portuguese man-of-war baby. Beware!

Matt and I left Melbourne on a rainy morning and headed west to the Yarra Valley, one of Victoria's top wine regions. We sampled the wines - they're known for their Pinots and Chards - then headed right through the rain to the Prom.

Vineyard in the Yarra Valley (can you spot the pair of masked lapwings?)

Sunset from Wilson's Promontory 

But on to the birds. We headed south from Yarra to the Prom and camped there for 2 nights. On our first night, a hike to the loo led to close encounters with a few common species: Australian wood (maned) ducks, Pacific gulls, silver gulls, and superb fairy-wrens. We also had run-ins with wombats and wallabies.

Superb fairy wren, Wilson's Prom. It was autumn (i.e. not breeding season),

so this male didn't have his blue breeding plumage.

Pacific gull, Wilson's Promontory

Shy wallaby near our campsite

The next morning we awoke to the sounds of little wattlebirds, red wattlebirds, and ravens, and we made friends with an eastern yellow robin and some house sparrows. By the way, I learned how to tell the difference between the calls of little wattlebirds and red wattlebirds, which really helps with identification (but I still haven't learned how to put these sounds into words).

Red wattlebird near our campsite

Bird-watching on the beach

After a hearty camper's breakfast, we went on a 15-km hike from the Tidal River campsite. The first leg was coastline, where we spotted some more gulls, some crested terns, and a new one: oystercatchers.

A pair of oystercatchers digging for crabs and shellfish on the beach

Next our hike took us through the bush, where we saw some crimson rosellas and a group of young whipper-snappers on their first coed camping trip. Good stuff.

Me in the bush.

Finally, we headed back to camp, tired and ready for a sit-down with some beer and burgers. Our last bird sightings of the day were a laughing kookaburra, some maned ducks, a single rainbow lorikeet, and a very tame crimson rosella.

Kookaburra in a bottlebush tree at the Tidal River campground

A lone, very tame crimson rosella

After our pleasant day of sun, a violent rain storm came in overnight, bringing big morning swells of wind and rain that basically folded our tent in on itself. It was nightmarish at the time but funny now when we look back on it. The one bad thing about camping near the beach on Wilson's Promontory is that it's not at all protected. We rolled away from the Prom soaking wet with a wet mess of our gear in the trunk and our nerves on edge.

It's a good thing we found a little cafe in Foster to have a coffee and eggs. And even better when we spotted a flock of galahs in town.

Galahs in various poses, Foster (VIC)

Part of a moment

Today was a cool, cloudy day in Sydney, and Matt and I took the opportunity to go for a walk in the park before the afternoon rain rolled in. I strapped on my scarf and my raincoat, and we meandered through the streets until we found our way to our neighborhood's favorite parklands. We skirted the edge of the huge park, following a dirt running trail beneath the old Aussie trees, treading over thick tree roots, watching dogs fetch balls and families play soccer, and taking in views of the parklands from high roads and granite outcrops hidden in shady copses.

The birds were active, as they usually are before a rain storm, and at one point we happened upon a great flock of magnificent yellow-tailed black cockatoos. It was in the middle of our walk, as a heavy gray cloud passed overhead. We found ourselves on a grassy knoll on a sloping hillside, surrounded by big rocks, a stand of tall trees, and hundreds of these impressive birds that enveloped us in their chorus of foreboding sounds.

They flew from tree to tree, fanning out their huge yellow tails whenever they landed on tree branches, often flying overhead but never once landing on the ground to forage like their white, sulfur-crested cousins. I have been seeing them migrate through the park for the past few weeks, but this was the first chance I've had to see them up close. I was afraid (!) to get closer than a few meters, as they are frighteningly large (55-60 cm) birds, but somehow it felt more appropriate to watch silently from afar, to enjoy our place in the middle of this majestic moment without announcing our presence too loudly. They are much more beautiful up close than I expected from the pictures in my bird guides.

And so we enjoyed a moment alone with hundreds of these birds - a beautiful moment that lasted for about 3-4 minutes. And then they were gone, as quickly as we had discovered them. A loud noise sounded from somewhere, and they were off with a start, just hundreds of these birds with their hundreds of voices, soaring away overhead, covering every inch of the deep gray sky.

Living in Australia sometimes means having close, wonderful encounters with nature, and being moved by them.